24: Day 1.5
Author's note #1: A "24" story without Jack Bauer might be blasphemy to some but I couldn't resist the idea of doing a story from another character's point of view. Several familiar characters will be present throughout the story and a few more may come and go as the story progresses. Not having to honor any sort of contractual commitment to actors means I don't have to struggle to find something for a character to do for the sake of keeping them present (as was often the case with Kim and even occasionally with Palmer) so don't be surprised if "regular" characters drop out of sight now and then. Finally, though our story's hero faces problems and dilemmas similar to Jack, he's defiantly a different kind of CTU agent than Jack. I hope he'll come to grow on you.
Author's note #2: Events don't quite occur in real time. Not all of us have time to plug away in front of their PC for hours on end and I'd like to get this submitted as soon as possible so I can get some feedback.
The following takes place between 10:00 A.M. and 11:00 A.M., ten months after the California presidential primary.
10:00:00...10:00:01...10:00:02...10:00:03...
The man took one last look at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and chuckled to himself. The fact that he was concerned with neatness at such a time was not lost to him. It was simply something that been instilled in him early in life and stayed with him, through Afghanistan, through the hardliner's coup, through Chechnya, and through that fateful day he'd chosen to throw it all away.
Emerging from the motel bathroom, he saw his female companion had returned. Tatyana looked oddly out of place with her blonde hair down and the bright blouse and skirt she wore; nothing like the dark gray and brown jackets and pants the man was used to seeing her in. It had been necessary to alter their appearances at least slightly to reduce the risk of being spotted by their enemies, especially now that he was so close.
Tatyana's appearance certainly wasn't displeasing either, reminding him of the endless debate he'd had with himself whether or not to act on the attraction he knew she felt for him. Their difference in age was considerable. Not only was she young enough to be his daughter but she was, in fact, younger than his actual daughter. Still, it had been a long time since his wife's death and the handful of women he'd encountered since then always seemed to him to be missing something, a connection he could never seem to find. Tatyana understood him better than anyone but he'd always feared the complications becoming intimate with her would surely bring.
Now is not the time dwell on such things, he scolded himself. You must look to the future. "Is the car ready?" he asked in his native Russian.
Tatyana nodded. "Da, but I still do not know where we are going."
The man sighed. "That is because I am going alone from here."
Tatyana was not easily caught off-guard. Her training and the kind of men they'd been forced to deal with over the years ensured that. Her eyes narrowed slightly however. "I do not understand, sir."
The man smiled. This was the most affection he typically allowed himself to display to her. "Where I am going involves more danger than even we are used to. I cannot allow anyone but myself to face such risks."
Her look of confusion seemed to give way slightly to hurt. "We have faced risks together before. I left my post to remain at your side. You know I would follow you anywhere."
He looked at her intently. She would never understand how rare and precious that kind of fierce loyalty was to him. "Perhaps I had underestimated you."
An enticing smile emerged across her face as she stepped closer to him, stopping only when her faces was inches from his. "Perhaps you did."
Leaning closer, she did not see the handkerchief he pulled from his pocket until it was pressed against her face. A muffled sound emerged from under it she clutched his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, while his other hand pressed her face into the handkerchief. The fumes worked quickly and her grip on his wrist grew weaker by the second until he saw her release him completely as her hands dropped to her sides. Looking up at her face, he saw her eyes rolling back as her eyelids fluttered shut.
Lowering her gently on to the bed, he lamented that this was necessary, but he had already lost two people precious to him. The thought of losing another was unacceptable.
Pulling the plane ticket and notepad from his pocket he slipped them into her hand. Written on the notepad was the number for an account at a bank in Switzerland. He knew she'd know better than to try and look for him. She knew he couldn't be found if he didn't want to be. Hopefully she would be smart enough to be on the flight bound for Geneva tomorrow. There was enough in the account to ensure her a comfortable and relatively safe life. It might make it a bit easier to forgive him.
Debating for a moment whether or not to place a kiss on her forehead, he decided not to and walked toward the door. He allowed himself one last look at her, looking more peaceful than he'd ever seen her, before walking out of the room.
10:08:49...10:08:50...10:08:51...10:08:52
No good deed goes unpunished, Matt Harper thought, walking into CTU yet again on what was supposed to be his day off.
It was because of a good deed, after all, that Tony Almeida, a man Matt had been friends with since their days at Stanford, had owed Matt a favor. Tony had chosen to repay that favor by dropping Matt's name with his boss when an opening came up at CTU just over nine months ago.
Like an idiot, Matt had jumped at the job opportunity when it was offered to him. His work with the FBI simply wasn't what it used to be for him. This might offer some new challenges. It was closer to home as well and might even give him and Lauren a chance to work some things out.
That dream certainly died quickly. CTU turned out to demand more of his time than the Bureau ever had. His decision certainly hadn't gone over well with Lauren either. Things between the two of them grew steadily worse and he was living on his own within a month of taking the job. He was now lucky if he got to see Danny twice a week. His thirteenth birthday was coming up next week and after seven months of broken promises, Matt's credibility with his son was at an all-time low.
I'll be damned if George Mason thinks he can make me miss that.
Matt's mood certainly wasn't helped when he saw George talking with the one person who could make him look better by comparison: Ryan Chappelle.
"Nice of you to join us, Matt," Chappelle said with his usual smarm, glancing at his watch.
"Not today, please, Ryan." Matt groaned, feeling the beginning of one of the headaches Chappelle seemed so adept at giving people. "When was the phone call?"
"Forty-seven minutes ago from a payphone at 93rd and Groves." said George. "We've got a guy scouting the area for all the good that'll do. I've got the new girl Michelle looking at motels in the area he might be staying at but that'll take time."
"Well keep at it." Ryan snapped. "I don't care what this son of a bitch promised us, I'd still rather bring him in on our terms and if we get a chance to do that we do."
Matt rolled his eyes. "General Andrei Marenkov, one of the biggest underground arms dealers in the word is turning himself over to us voluntarily and says he'll cooperate fully and you're actually willing to jeopardize that."
"He's got a point, Ryan."George chimed in. "I mean we've been after Marenkov for years. I might've considered trying to cash in on that reward the Russians have for him if rubles were actually worth something. Seems like a little legwork is a small price to pay to get him without any fuss."
"Well excuse me if I don't consider this a little too good to be true. This guy's been yanking our chain for days and we still don't have a clue why he's doing this now after being on the run for a decade." Ryan turned to Matt, "or better yet why he insists on you being there."
Matt sighed. They'd been over this before. "I told you. I just happened to be the guy he made contact with. I don't know why but he trusts me."
"Well lucky for the two of you, Brad Hammond at Division agrees with you, despite my recommendations. Just remember it's not my ass if this goes sour."
Matt snorted as Ryan walked away. "You know someday somebody around here's gonna end up shooting that guy."
"Forget about Chappelle. Now look, the rendezvous co-ordinates Marenkov gave us are for an apartment on 115th. Some rundown slum even roaches would be embarrassed to live in. The time he gave us was eleven sharp so you better head out as soon as you're briefed."
"No backup then?"
George shook his head. "He said if he spots anyone else he splits."
"So I guess I've got no choice."
"Nope." George said, patting Matt on the arm. "And besides which, this way, if this goes sour, it's not my ass either."
"Thanks a lot, George."
10:19:23...10:19:24...10:19:25...10:19:26...
Marenkov missed Tatyana already. Sitting alone on an unmade bed in an apartment even filthier than the motel it was five minutes' drive from, he little else to do but think. He didn't regret leaving her behind, but he realized that he was alone for the first time in years.
He and his daughter had not spoken in years, despite repeated efforts to contact her. He couldn't blame her for disowning him after the path he'd chosen. He could only hope she might forgive him after she learned he'd tried to set things right. Though Tatyana had meant much to him, Galina was his world. Fitting that he'd chosen the life he'd led because of one of his children and now he would try to atone for his actions for the sake of the other.
Marenkov didn't consider himself a paranoid man, though after several close calls over the last few weeks, being more on edge than usual might be understandable. It was because of this that he found himself standing upright at the faint sound of a creaking floorboard in the next room. One creak was simply the sign of an old and poorly maintained building. Two meant someone else was in the other room. Another creak and Marenkov found himself with his back to the wall, next to the doorframe with a gun in his hand.
As the intruder crept through the doorway, gun raised, Marenkov brought the butt of his own gun down across the man's head. With a muffled grunt he went down, dazed just long enough for Marenkov to kick his weapon away.
"Who sent you?"Marenkov asked, pointing his gun at the intruder as the man's eyes became more lucid. "Tell me or you die."
"Rozinsky." The man hissed.
Ah, yes, Marenkov thought. He'd thought the assailant looked familiar. He was the thug who always accompanied Rozinsky during their arms deals. His red head of hair was unmistakable.
"Rozinsky sent you?" Marenkov chuckled. "He must be getting sloppy in his old age."
"He didn't have a choice." Redhead answered. "He's not the only one after you and wanted to make sure he got to you first. Anyone with as many enemies as you have done not need to worry about old age."
"If they're anything like you, I am less than terrified."
Redhead responded with a smug grin. "Go ahead. Try to surrender to the Americans. You will not even outlive this day."
Marenkov shrugged. "I'll outlive you," and squeezed the trigger twice.
Marenkov walked across the room and picked up the discarded gun and looked back at Redhead, a look of shock in his lifeless eyes as they stared in the direction the bullets had come from. The fool hadn't even bothered attaching a silencer, he thought, looking at the gun. He would have drawn the attention of at least three floors had he fired a shot.
This had been an interesting distraction, almost amusing, but he suspected that not everyone after him would be so inept.
10:31:06...10:31:07...10:31:08...10:31:09...
Justin Sloane was only a pair of glasses away from being the stereotypical computer nerd. His thin frame, slight hunch, and noticeable over bite nearly made up for that though.
That was of little concern to his employers, however, who, at the moment where standing at the other end of the room, occasionally glancing impatiently back at Justin, hunched over at the computer table, while he did his work. They were Russians, obviously, and their attitudes were not to their nation's credit. The taller light-haired one had been addressed as Dimitri by the shorter dark-haired one, who in turn had answered to Alexi. Justin didn't speak a word of Russian, and for once, he wasn't sorry about that, given the tone the two were conversing in.
Justin could read between the lines sufficiently to tell that Alexi was the one in charge, while Dimitri, being nearly a head taller and at least fifty pounds heavier, was the muscle. He wasn't actually that much bigger than average but standing next to the shorter Alexi certainly helped the illusion. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn't patiently, and Justin shuddered when Alexi briefly pointed in his direction.
I should have known twenty grand for a simple programming job was too good to be true. The second I'm finished, I'm outta here.
Alexi started walking over to Justin and it was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. "How are you coming?" he asked icily.
Justin quickly typed in one last code, the turned to Alexi. "Uhhh... that should just about do it. Signal scrambler's working fine so you won't to worry about anyone tracing you. It'll go straight to the phone and nowhere else. Whatever you guys got planned you won't need to worry about anyone crashing your party line." He chuckled nervously, getting up as Alexi sat down to look at the screen.
"So listen," Justin began, slowly edging away from Alexi, "since I'm pretty much done here, ummm, maybe I should just take my money and get out of your hair, let you guys do whatever you're gonna do."
Alexi looked up at him and gave him gave a smile. Justin couldn't decide if it made him less worried or more.
"Certainly." Alexi said. "I'll take care of that immediately."
Justin tried smiling. "And..and you won't need to worry about any problems with the system. I checked. Everything's clear. I've worked on stuff more complicated than this."
Alexi got up, putting a had one the young man's shoulder, continuing to smile. "Yes, you seem to know a great deal about what you're doing."
For the first time in two hours, Justin's heart stopped threatening to beat it's way out of his chest. Maybe this was going to work out after all.
Alexi's smile suddenly grew cold. "A little too much, I'm afraid."
Justin had no idea when the knife had been drawn or when it was raised. He only noticed it when it passed across his throat, blood spilling out in its wake. Justin tried to scream but found he couldn't and collapsed to the ground instead. Darkness claimed him seconds later.
Dimitri and Alexi stood over the young man's corpse, looking at the growing pool of blood forming around him.
Alexi sighed. "I supposed I should have done that somewhere else. It's going to leave a mess now."
"It's not a concern." Dimitri looked at his watch. "Sergei should be delivering the phone by now. Everything's going according to plan."
Alexi glared at the body, then at Dimitri. "It had better stay that way. Have someone dispose of that and let me know when Sergei has delivered the phone. I'm going to go get her ready for the call."
10:48:12...10:48:13...10:48:14...10:48:15...
The ringing of the phone startled George and he realized with embarrassment that he'd been starting to doze off. Looking around his office, a flight of stairs up from the rest of his staff, he was relieved no one was around to see him. Times like these, I wish Walsh was still alive. I'd rather have him handling this Marenkov mess than me.
Richard Walsh, George's predecessor as head of CTU, had been killed in the line of duty while investigating a conspiracy to assassinate then-Senator David Palmer. George had been brought in only hours after his death.
Lucky me. I got to inherit Jack Bauer, Nina Myers, and the murder of a half dozen people, including Jack's wife, all on my watch. I was supposed to be working in D.C. by now!
Shaking himself out of his brief moment of self-pity, he picked up the phone. "Yeah, what is it?"
One of the younger staff members, a kid who's name escaped George at the moment, responded in a slightly nasal voice. "Sir, there's a Doug Mason on the phone for you."
Perfect. This is just what I need right now. "Thanks. I got it." George leaned back in his chair and steeled himself. "Hey, dad. How are you doing?"
There was a brief pause before Doug Mason's voice emerged from the receiver. "I'm good, George. I'm good. How are you doing? Obviously you're still running CTU. How's that working for you?"
George rolled his eyes. His father had barely been present for most of his life and his recent attempts to ingratiate himself on his son, now that George was a middle-aged man, were less than endearing. "CTU's fine. I'm fine. Umm listen this...isn't the best time to talk. We're kind of in the middle of something here."
"Oh sorry. I was just in town for the while. I might be moving the city. I think I've had enough of Ventura."
George sat up. "Wait, dad, when did you move back to Ventura? I thought you were still living in Riverside?"
There was silence on Doug's end of the phone. "Oh. Did I say Ventura? I meant Riverside. Sorry. Anyway, I'd really like to see you today if you could spare a few minutes."
"Dad, did you not hear me say I was busy with something?" George responded, betraying his thinning patience. "You'd think the term Counter Terrorism Unit would be a good indicator that I don't work regular hours. Look I'll see about but I can't do anything today, all right?"
"Oh well, I'm so sorry to take up your precious time." the voice on the other end snapped. Great, now he's pissed. George thought. "Excuse me for wanting to see my son for a few minutes!"
"You had forty years to see me. Don't give me that." George snapped "Now I said I'm busy. I'll talk to you later!" He hung up the phone before his father could give him any more grief.
A second the phone rang again. "What?" George barked into the receiver.
"George, it's Tony. Matt's coming up on Marenkov's hideout."
George sighed. "All right. I'm coming." George shook his head in frustration. What else can go wrong today?
10:54:35...10:54:36...10:54:37...10:54:38...
The ringing of the phone startled Marenkov and he realized with embarrassment that he'd been starting to doze off. A second later came the realization that he had no phone. Where was the ringing coming from? Walking around, he finally found the source sitting on an open window sill in the from room.
Clearly, this wasn't there before was the first thing that went through Marenkov's head. It was unlikely it belonged to Redhead either, since he wouldn't have bother the stop and put down his phone. Someone must have snuck up the fire escape and planted it. It meant people were aware of his location. On the other hand, if whoever knew of his location wanted him dead, he'd probably would be, unless they were as incompetent as Rozinsky and his people.
Which means I'm probably safe indulging my curiosity and answering the phone. Marenkov pressed SEND and instantly a face he knew appeared on the screen.
"Alexi, what do you want?"
The short dark-haired Russian on the screen smiled. "Andrei, is that any way to treat an old friend?"
"No but it's better treatment than you deserve." Marenkov glared coldly.
"Andrei, please. I always enjoyed our friendly competition. Something troubles me, however. I've heard you are trying to surrender to the Americans. Is this true? Would you really throw away your talents and resources like that?"
"I do not have to explain myself to you!" Marenkov hissed.
"Maybe not you are valuable to be wasted on them. I want to come work for me. Your contacts with both buyers and sellers would be invaluable."
Marenkov chuckled quietly. "You can't truly believe I would ever work for you."
Alexi offered a cold smile, the same one he'd give someone else recently. "I think you might, if I had the right leverage." Alexi took a step back and to the side, revealing a young woman. Though her hair and clothes looked somewhat disheveled, she had a rather attractive slight figure and features, though they were difficult to see at the moment, as she was tied to a chair and gagged.
Galina! No! Marenkov hoped the color wasn't draining from his face as much as he felt. "Alexi, you bastard! I swear I-"
"...will do exactly as I say if you want your daughter to live." Alexi interrupted loudly, before smiling again. "You will get to the corner of 109th and Hosmer within forty minutes. From there you will be called with further instructions or she dies."
The screen was close enough for Marenkov to see his daughter, her eyes wide with terror as a muffled cry emerged from beneath the gag.
"Stop! Stop!" Marenkov cried, his eyes as close to tears as he had ever known. "I will do what you want just don't hurt her."
Alexi leaned in close so his face filled the frame. "Get going now, and don't try to contact the authorities or else!" Alexi leaned over to push a button off to the side and the screen went blank.
Marenkov steadied his legs, which he'd just realized now were shaking. No time to be paralyzed now. I must do what I can for her.
Matt climbed the last flight of stairs, bringing his phone up to him. "George, Tony, I'm at Marenkov hiding place, apartment 42."
"All right, be careful." George's voice was heard saying on the other end.
A doorbell clung to the graffiti-covered walls by a pair of fraying wires. This left only the door to knock.
Matt rapped his hands against the door. "It's Matt Harper. I'm here to pick you up." No answer. From inside the apartment, Matt head the sound of something heavy hitting a metal grate. Someone on the fire escape, perhaps? Oh, hell.
Matt stepped back, then slammed his foot against the door, which swung open with a crack. He rushed to the front room window, and leaned out in time to a man with salt-and-pepper hair jump off the bottom rung of the fire escape and sprint towards a grey SUV in the parking lot.
Damn. For a guy in his fifties, he can run. "George, Marenkov's making a run for it! I'm in pursuit!"
Matt overheard George released a handful of profanities as he raced down the fire escape. By the time, he reached the ground, Marenkov's vehicle had sped off, leaving him to run for his own SUV.
Matt brought the car around, speeding off in Marenkov's direction. All the while, he tried to focus on keeping up with Marenkov and ingnore the nagging question of why the man would go to the trouble of revealing his location only to run when Matt showed up.
Something doesn't add up here, and I'm going to find out what!
10:59:57...10:59:58...10:59:59...11:00:00...